September 1969 was to be a memorable month for Jason Simpkins and Richard Tyler. Both would be moving in to Beacon House, the junior boarding house for Stanton School for Boys. Jason, at the age of 11, was a new boy at the school. For him, all would be strange and novel. Richard, who was just 16, had been at the school for five years. The first two had been spent in Beacon House. Then he had moved on to Tor House, one of the three senior boarding houses. Now he was to return to Beacon to act as resident prefect in charge of the 108 eleven and twelve year old boarders.
Richard's appointment was a great honour for one so young. All prefects, save one, were in the Upper Sixth. But there had been a tradition for a few years of giving the Beacon resident prefectship to the most promising Lower Sixth Form boy of the year. Since the abolition of the Oxford and Cambridge entrance examinations there were no boys staying on for a fourth term in the Upper Sixth. That meant that the important post of head boy had to be given each year to a new Upper Sixth Form boy. The headmaster had therefore decided that a Lower Sixth Form boy should be groomed for the top job by being given some prefectorial experience. He had recognised that there would be difficulties in giving only one boy in his year disciplinary powers over boys in the senior houses (who would include not only other Lower Sixth Form boys but some Upper Sixth Form as well). He was also conscious that the younger boys in the senior houses could be difficult to control at times, whereas Beacon boys were generally more responsive to authority. Accordingly, he had fixed on the idea of appointing each year's bright hope for the future to Beacon. In 1985 Richard was the lucky boy.
I should give a brief description of Richard. I will start with his appearance. He was five foot ten inches tall, and still growing. He had a slim but muscular build. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim and his legs long and firm. His hair was dark and slightly tousled. He had brown eyes. He had enchanting dimples in both cheeks when he smiled. His complexion was clear and unblemished by spots. What of his character? Well, he was an exceptionally honourable boy. He was truthful, never dishonest and thought of others before himself as a matter of course. That makes him sound a bit of a prude. But he was certainly not that. He enjoyed life to the full. His honesty and truthfulness did not prevent him from having a splendidly mischievous nature. Although he worked hard at his lessons, he also played hard. Whenever an adventure involving breaches of the school rules was being planned by boys in his year, you could be pretty sure that he would be at the forefront in making the plans. Many was the midnight swim he had been on and he knew the various parts of the school grounds which were out of bounds like the back of his hand. Some naturally mischievous boys become moody and resentful when those in authority clamp down on them. Not Richard. On several occasions he had felt the sting of the head boy's cane on his buttocks. Never once had it occurred to him that the punishment was undeserved. On the playing fields he had the advantage of being a natural all rounder. In the previous Summer term he had made it to the first eleven at cricket. He was thought to be likely to be at least a first fifteen reserve in his first term as Beacon prefect. But his real joy was tennis. Despite his youth, he was already acknowledged as having the fastest serve in the school. His forehand shots from the back of the court were so hard as to be almost unreturnable. With all those attributes it is hardly surprising that he was universally popular with boys and masters. No one was in the least bi! t surprised when his appointment to Beacon was announced.
Jason was, of course, a lot smaller than Richard. But any observant onlooker, seeing them side by side, would have recognised that the younger boy was almost certainly destined to have the same athletic build as the older. He was about five foot six inches tall. He had, long before, lost the puppy fat that so often stays with boys until their early teens. He was slim and his flesh was firm. His muscles were well exercised on the sports field, but were yet to develop as strongly as Richard's. His hair was blond and his complexion fair. He had bright blue eyes and a smile which had often led doting female relations to describe him as angelic. But he was not exactly an angel. True, like Richard, he had an advanced (for his age) understanding of what was good and bad, and he rejected the bad. He didn't lie if to do so would get someone else into trouble. He had never stolen anything in his life. He detested bullying, even though he was generally stronger and fitter than most of his peers. But he adored a prank. He considered that rules invented by adults were put in place in order to provide challenges to small boys. If told by his parents that he was not allowed to play by the river at home, his natural reaction would be to head for the river, whatever the consequences of being caught might be. At his previous day school there had been a firm rule that no boy was ever allowed to walk across the masters' lawn. The inevitable result was that there was a running competition to see who could walk across it most. Jason was the clear winner in his year.
Richard was looking forward to his new responsibilities with quiet confidence. He knew that he would face often difficult problems. He recognised that a great deal would be expected of him, despite his tender years. But, without being arrogant, he felt sure he would cope well. Jason was not so confident. For him, arrival at Beacon House would herald a completely new life. Never before had he boarded. One of his former school friends was joining him at Stanton. But he knew no one else there. He was determined to make the most of all that the school could offer, but he could hardly be blamed for being nervous. Indeed, on first seeing him in the junior common room, Richard had thought Jason had the look of a frightened rabbit. But his nerves were, in fact, no greater than those of any normal boy starting at his first boarding school at the age of 11. Like all such boys, he had heard endless stories of the dreadful things that happened to a boy when incarcerated away from home and family in the company of four hundred other boys, most of whom were much older. He guessed there would be fearful initiation ceremonies involving excruciating pain and humiliation. He firmly expected to be bemused by endless meaningless rules and traditions. He was sure that canes would be constantly swishing through the air inflicting unheard of pain on tender young bottoms. But he was not extravagantly frightened. He was sensible enough to realise that everyone got through in the end. If there were going to be initiation ceremonies, they would be ones which countless other boys had survived without harm. Rules and traditions might be difficult to master, but no doubt he would succeed in the end. The cane was a worry to a boy whose experience of physical punishment had been restricted to having his bottom smacked by his father. But boys of his age had been caned for hundreds of years and, generally, had suffered no lasting ill-effects. Indeed, he was mature enough to think that the lasting effects were usu! ally highly beneficial to the boys' characters and development. No doubt it would be painful, and he had a fear that he might not be able to take it properly, but he could reassure himself that it would be done for his own good.
Richard had given much thought to his new duties over the long Summer holidays. He had some fairly radical ideas for changes in the regime at Beacon House which he wanted to bring in. He was a naturally thoughtful boy and he had long thought that there was a need for reform in the junior house. He recalled his own time there as a new boy. On the whole, he had enjoyed himself. But there had been times when he had felt lonely, isolated and depressed. Over the years he had tried to identify the reasons for that. Inevitably, of course, young boys taken away from home for the first time in their lives would have times of unhappiness. But he did think that more could be done to make the transition easier. He remembered, in particular, that the resident prefect had always seemed to him to be a distant figure of authority whose only task had seemed to be the infliction of punishment. He did not for one moment think that he had not merited every beating he had been given. But he did think that it might have been beneficial to him if the prefect had made more of an effort to befriend his charges. He had thought of his own younger days at home. He had sometimes needed punishment then and his father had never hesitated to administer it when required. But the occasional red and sore bottom had never led him to think of his father as anything but the firmest of friends and advisers. To his mind, there was no reason why a prefect, especially one with such young charges, should not also be a friend and adviser to them.
The reader must not run away with the idea that Richard was no more than a wooly liberal. He was clearly conscious of the dangers inherent in over friendliness to young boys for whose discipline he would be responsible. He knew that boys were expert at smelling out weakness in prefects and masters and exploiting it for their own ends. But to be a friend and adviser was not to be weak. There was absolutely no reason why the boys should not be encouraged to look on him as a kind mentor while realising, at the same time, that misbehaviour would not be tolerated. He was determined to prove it could be done.
Richard's first priority was to ensure that he did not only see the boys in his study when they needed punishment. He would make time to see them all, at intervals, for friendly chats and advice. He had decided that he should start with the new boys. He would ask Mr Nicholson, the housemaster, to arrange for him to be given time see all the new boys, three at a time, for about twenty minutes each over the first week of term. There were 54 new boys altogether. With three sessions a day, he could get through them all in six days. That would only be an hour a day and should certainly not present problems. In the following week, he would do the same for the second year boys. They would not need quite as long. Half an hour a day, he thought, would be sufficient. Next, he would institute a system of periodic sessions with individual boys. Those sessions would take ten minutes each. He had studied his calendar carefully. If he saw three boys a day he would be able to ensure that every single boy had at least two sessions during the term. As to what would be discussed, he thought that there should be a review of each boy's general progress in the house, a chance for the boys to raise any concerns they had and an opportunity to discuss any general behaviour problems. As a general principle, he would try to avoid using the sessions as an opportunity for punishing general misbehaviour, but he thought there might be occasions when, following discussion with the boy concerned, both he and the boy would conclude that an immediate beating, to clear the slate so to speak, might be beneficial. He would ask Mr Nicholson to let him set aside half an hour every evening, say from 6.30 to 7.00 p. m. for those sessions. But there might also be times when particular boys needed particular attention. He intended to let them all know that he would be in his study from 7.00 to 7.30 p. m. every evening so as to allow any to come and see him for advice or help. That would still allow him the traditional half hour ! before the boys' bedtime in which to carry out any routine punishments.
Then there was that question of punishment. All boys, he knew perfectly well, needed a firm hand occasionally. The cane was, he was certain, an essential tool in any boys' school. He had absolutely no qualms about wielding it to good effect whenever it was needed. But he did wonder whether it really was necessary for boys in the first year to have to make the immediate transformation from relatively mild parental spankings to very painful canings. No doubt, every now and again, an eleven year old would do something which could only be properly dealt with by caning him. But, to Richard's mind, there was no reason why order should not be kept by using a plimsoll rather than a cane. He intended to ask Mr Nicholson to decree that, from then on, the resident prefect in Beacon House would only use the plimsoll on first year boys for their first two terms. In any extreme case, where Richard thought that the cane was required, he would propose that the boy concerned should be sent to Mr Nicholson for punishment. When second year boys needed punishment he would continue to use the cane. It was important, he thought, that such boys should be used to the cane by the time they went into their senior houses. It was also important that he, as the probable head boy in the following year, should have some experience of using the cane.
Mr Nicholson, though not an unsympathetic school master, was not particularly keen on change. As far as he was concerned, his house had consistently been successful. Discipline had never been a serious problem. He did not like the idea of eleven year old boys being caned, which was why he was happy to leave the task to the resident prefect, but experience had shown him that caning produced results. He was certainly not averse to the idea of the resident prefect advising and counselling the boys, but he was worried that familiarity might breed contempt. But Richard was a persuasive advocate. Not without some misgivings, Mr Nicholson eventually agreed to the proposed changes, at least on a trial basis for one term. The deciding factor was Richard's promise that he would be prepared to use the regular counselling sessions as an opportunity to punish boys who had been guilty of persistent low-grade misbehaviour.
Richard's conversation with Mr Nicholson had taken place on the day before term officially started. On the following day the house began to fill with eleven and twelve year old boys. The second year boys were all delighted to see who their resident prefect was to be. Richard was, as I have said, universally popular and, though few of the boys had had occasion even to speak to him in their first year at the school, they all knew his reputation. Some, it is true, made worried comments to their friends about his strong forehand stroke on the tennis court. They suspected, with justification, that it would be readily adapted to the cane. But all thought it overwhelmingly likely that, while he would administer justice very firmly, he would also do so fairly. The new boys, of course, had no idea what to expect from him. Their first encounter with him was to be at the house meeting for new boys which always took place on the first evening of term.
The assembly hall in Beacon House was a buzz of chatter as 54 boys waited for the arrival of Mr Nicholson and Richard. Boys who had been at prep school together were eagerly exchanging news about the holidays and speculating about what lay in store for them at Stanton. Those who had no old friends to catch up with had, mostly, managed to find others in the same position and were now cross-examining their new friends about previous schools and home life. Jason had already made friends with a boy called Simon Smelter. They were now sitting next to each other in the second row of chairs exchanging accounts of all they had heard about the school. After a few minutes, the door opened and Richard walked in. The room fell silent. A few boys stood up immediately. Others quickly followed suit. But Richard waved them down again with his hand.
"There's no need to stand up for me lads, but remember to stand as soon as Mr Nicholson comes in. He will be here in a moment. As some of you will know, I am Tyler, your resident prefect. The purpose of this evening's meeting is to welcome you to the house and school and to make sure you know what your housemaster and prefect look like. I will give you a little essential information later in the meeting. But I will leave most of the details to smaller meetings over the next week.". Richard then glanced at the open door and saw the housemaster approaching down the corridor. "OK boys, stand for your housemaster".
Mr Nicholson walked slowly to the front of the room. He seemed ancient to the watching eleven year olds, but was no more than fifty five. His hair was grey. He walked with a slight stoop. But he was not nearly as decrepit as he tried to look. He had been a Rugby Blue at Cambridge and had kept up his love of the game by regularly coaching the boys. He made it a rule, at the annual house cross-country run, always to take part himself (and he always won). On the very few occasions when, because of the extreme gravity of the offence, he caned a boy rather than leaving it to the resident prefect, he swung the rod with a force that had become legendary throughout the school. His appearance at the new boys house meeting was certainly deceptive.
"Sit down boys, and welcome", he began in a slightly quavering voice which added to the impression of a frail old man, "my name is Mr Nicholson, commonly known as Sir", a polite titter of laughter ran through the room, "the main purpose of my existence is to be here to help you boys if you ever have any problems. My door is always open to you. Whenever you want to see me, all you have to do is to go to the house secretary in the office, tell her what you want to talk to me about and make an appointment. I can guarantee that you will be seen within a week of your request being made."
Even the slightly nervous new boys had to mask their grins as they tried to come to terms with that description of Mr Nicholson's door always being open. Fortunately, he was a man of few words and they were not required to suppress laughter at any further remarks. His closing words had now been reached.
"We will get to know each other over the next few weeks. For the time being, I leave you in the capable hands of Richard Tyler, your resident prefect. He will tell you all you need to know to get your through your first days here."
He turned and started the slow walk back to the door. The boys dutifully stood as he made his exit. Once the door was shut, Richard waved them back into their seats and began his pep talk. He had given a great deal of thought to what he would say. It was obviously important that he made a good impression at this first meeting. What he hoped was that the boys would leave the room thinking that their prefect was approachable, friendly but also firm. Someone who would help in times of difficulty, but who was also not to be trifled with when it came to general standards of behaviour. He had, he knew, set himself a difficult task and he could be forgiven for being nervous as he embarked on it. But he was a good performer and his nerves were not apparent to his audience. He was standing on a raised platform at the front of the room, behind a table. He moved forwards and perched casually on the front left hand corner of the table. His left foot was on the floor. His right buttock and thigh rested on the table with his right leg dangling in the air. Then he began.
"This is a difficult time for all of you. I know that because I was once sitting where you are, listening to a strange prefect telling us all extraordinarily complicated things about life at Stanton and in Beacon House. Like most of you, I hadn't boarded before. I was missing my parents and my brothers and sisters. I was terrified about the huge unknown that lay ahead of me. Of course, there were some things that I thought I did know. I was quite convinced, for instance, that I would be mercilessly bullied by the older boys in the house. I was sure I would never learn the seemingly hundreds of meaningless rules which governed the school and house. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I would be constantly on the receiving end of countless vicious canings for offences which either I wouldn't understand or which were hopelessly trivial. As it turned out, I was wrong about pretty well all of that and, if you are thinking the same things, you are wrong too.
"Let us start with bullying. I won't deceive you. Every school year is bound to have one or two boys who pick on younger or smaller boys. Not every second year boy here will be all sweetness and light to you. But every single one of them will know that, if they overstep the mark, they will have me to answer to. There can be no excuse at all for bullying. If it happens, and I sincerely hope it will not, the perpetrator will be given no mercy at all. I know what you are thinking. It's all very well for Tyler to speak these fine words, but he'll never know about the bullying when it happens. Well, you are wrong again. Obviously, I won't expect any sneaking. I'm not going to ask you to tell me if you are being bullied. Not because I don't want you to, but because I know that no decent schoolboy will sneak on another. But what I can tell you is that prefects have an enormous advantage over masters. We can go where they cannot. We notice things, because we are much younger than them, which they would never notice. I can guarantee that, if any second year boy ever indulges in any serious bullying, he will be nursing the sorest backside in the school within days. That is why I can be confident that there will be practically no bullying in this house.
"Next, the complicated rules. Yes, over hundreds of years this school has amassed a great many rules and traditions all of which you will be expected to learn. But I know how difficult it is. You won't find me punishing you for every minor breach of rules in your first few weeks. Only when I'm sure that you know the rules will I start cracking down on you. Obviously there are some rules that are just common sense. Things like ragging in the dorms, for instance, are obviously wrong. If you break that sort of rule you can expect to be punished from the start. But I will give you plenty of leeway when it comes to the more obscure rules.
"Now for the topic you've all been dreading. All those vicious canings you're expecting. Well, you're wrong again. Don't get me wrong. This school is no holiday camp. If you misbehave you can expect to be punished. Eventually, I expect you will all learn what a Stanton caning is like and I can tell you, from all too much experience, that it is very painful. But no boys' boarding school could possibly operate smoothly without corporal punishment. Indeed, there can't be many boys of your age who do not need the occasional walloping even at home. I won't embarrass you by asking you now but, if I did, I would be prepared to bet that all, or nearly all of you, have, at the very least, had the odd spanking from your dads. If you need that at home, where there's just you and any brothers and sisters you may have, just imagine how much more likely you are to need whacking in a school packed with hundreds of mischievous boys. The problem is that, quite naturally, young boys egg each other on. You will find yourselves doing things here that you would never dream of doing at home: I know I did when I was your age. The only way to restrain you is to ensure that you know serious bad behaviour will result in pain.
"A few of you will have been to prep schools where the cane is used. You will already know what it feels like, although I should warn you that it will be much harder here. Others will have had the slipper at your previous schools and will, at least know what it feels like to bend over to get a sore bum, although not nearly as sore as it will be after a Stanton caning. But most of you will only have been spanked at home. If your dads are anything like mine was when I was eleven, that will have hurt, but obviously not as much as a proper caning. All of you are in for a shock when you get your first canings. But, and this is the good news, that is unlikely to happen this term or even next term. That is because I have changed the rules for Beacon House with effect from now. Except in the most serious case, no first year boy will be caned in his first two terms. Instead, I intend to use a plimsoll on you. Not that that won't be painful. I can tell you that it is size 12 and has a really stinging rubber sole. Once you've had a dose you won't be eager to come back for more. But it will be pain that is easily manageable by the sort of boy who comes to this school. And, so long as I am resident prefect in Beacon House, you can take my word for it that you will never be beaten unless you deserve it.
"Before I get on to pleasanter subjects, I will have to give you a brief explanation of the punishment regime in the school. Although Mr Nicholson is obviously in overall charge, day to day discipline in the house is my responsibility. I supervise you all the time you're in the house. And I decide and administer most punishments. Even if you are caught misbehaving by Mr Nicholson, he will generally send you to me for your punishment. During the school day, when you are having lessons and so on, you will obviously have to answer to the masters. But even they, if they think you need more than a detention, will send you to me.
"There are only three punishments I will be giving. For the most minor offences, I will set you lines. For more serious offences, I may consider making you run several times round the main games fields. Usually, however, if I think lines are not enough, I will beat you. Punishments will be administered either immediately before breakfast or at 7.30 in the evening. It is very important that you all, every day, look at the house notice board as soon as you are up and dressed in the mornings and at 7.15 in the evenings. You will find a list of boys who are to be punished during the next session. Next to each name will be the provisional punishment I have decided on. If you see your name on the list, you must go to my study and wait to be called in. If the provisional punishment is lines, you needn't change your clothes. But if it is a run or a beating, you must first change into PE kit. That means, T shirt, white cotton shorts (without underpants), white socks and gym shoes. When your turn to see me comes, you will be given an opportunity to persuade me to reduce your punishment. I imagine, however, that you are not the sort to whinge when you get into the trouble. I would be surprised if anyone tried to argue for a lesser punishment unless there has been a clear misunderstanding. Once I confirm your punishment, it will be given immediately. If it is lines, you will complete them by the next punishment session. If you have not dome so, you must present yourself in gym kit and I will beat you. If it is a run, you will go straight outside and start running (I will come out to check on you). If it is a beating, you will bend over the back of a chair which I will point out to you and you will stay bent over until I tell you to get up.
"The only other times I might beat you are during your individual progress sessions with me. If I have been getting reports of general poor behaviour, with no one instance enough to justify punishment, I may consider suggesting to you that we wipe the slate clean by giving you two with the plimsoll. The decision, however, will be yours alone. What I will say is that, in view of your poor record, I will add extra strokes to your next beating but, if you decide to take two there and then, I will treat you as having a clean record next time you're up in front of me. I won't hold it against you if you decide to gamble. But I expect most of you will opt for a bird in the hand rather than two in the bush, or perhaps I should say two on the bum rather than six on the bum!"
Richard then turned to the more pleasant aspects of life in Beacon House. He described the sports programme, the indoor recreational facilities (there was a snooker table, table tennis, a well stocked library and even a television which could be watched for half an hour a day) and the house entertainments. The boys tried to listen attentively, but most were thinking only of canes, plimsolls and very sore bottoms.
Having run through the basics, Richard dismissed the boys to their common room. They had been given a great deal to talk about. Jason and Simon, like all the rest, were chatting nineteen to the dozen about only one topic. All were wondering what their first beating would be like and how it would compare with the punishments they had had in the past. As they walked to the common room, Jason and Simon both, though neither noticed it, gave reflective rubs to their slim round bottoms. Jason was the first to speak.
"Hey, Smelter, what's the worst you've ever had?"
"I once got four with a leather slipper from my dad on the bare bum. It really stung, but I bet it was nothing like what Tyler can do with a size 12 plimsoll. What about you?"
"I've never had more than six smacks on my bare bum from my dad. I reckon he's one of the hardest smackers in our village, but I don't think he's really prepared me for Tyler. Still, he seems a really great guy, doesn't he?"
"Certainly does. I reckon that if a boy's got to be whacked by anyone, it's better getting it from a bloke like him than some people I could think of."
The first of the new boys' smaller sessions with Richard took place on the following evening. Jason, Simon and another boy called Luke Trilling were on the list to be seen at 7.10 p. m. They walked together down the passage towards the soon to be familiar green door. As they passed the notice board they paused to see whether anything of interest had been added since lunch time. There was indeed one new notice and it was definitely interesting. It only had a few words, but they were words to chill the heart of any schoolboy in Beacon House: "Jenkins, 7.30 p. m., three". No one had expected to see such a notice so early in the term. Jason, Simon and Luke all felt a tingling down their spines as they recognised what this meant. None of them spoke: there was no need to. Their thoughts were as clear to each other as if they had been spoken aloud. They hurried on to Richard's study.
The red light was on outside the door. That meant, they knew, that Richard was occupied with someone else. That was not surprising. Three other new boys were due to finish their session at 7.10 and there was still five minutes to go. The boys waited silently in a line. All knew that there was nothing for them to be concerned about but, already, they were all feeling that clammy dread so well known to schoolboys throughout the land when waiting outside the study door of a prefect or master. There was, of course, no rational explanation for their nerves. They knew that perfectly well. But they could not banish them. Perhaps there is something in the genes of boys which triggers their reaction to doors like Richard's. I don't know. But I do know that Jason, Simon and Luke all found their hearts beating faster and their hands becoming clammy with sweat. Then they heard movement inside the room. Footsteps were approaching the other side of the door. The waiting boys all rubbed their sweaty palms on the tight seats of their trousers. The door opened and three very cheerful looking new boys came out. The light turned green. Jason knocked on the door and Richard's clear voice could be heard summoning them in.
The first thing the boys noticed was how bright and pleasant the room looked. They had been expecting dark panelling and heavy furniture with an impression of permanent dusk. But the walls were painted in a bright light yellow colour. There were bright overhead lights as well as occasional lamps around the side of the room. It was nearly dark outside, but they could tell that the large windows would fill the room with light during the day time. The furniture was modern and comfortable looking. There was a long sofa facing an open fire. To each side of it there was a matching armchair. In the middle of this arrangement was a low coffee table. All that was to the right. To the left, there was a desk of light wood behind which was a sensible upright chair. At the front of the desk was another upright chair, slightly smaller but of the same clean design. The boys looked round for signs of the more disagreeable use to which the room was occasionally put. But only Jason noticed the wicker work umbrella stand in the corner on the left of the desk. Poking out of it were three canes and, on a shelf beside it there was one, solitary but very large looking gym shoe. He nudged Simon and nodded in the direction of the instruments of correction. Then Richard spoke.
"Come on in lads. Sit on the sofa and we'll have a chat."
The boys sat side by side, rather nervously to begin with, on the edge of the sofa. Richard sat in one of the armchairs, leaning well back with his long slim legs comfortably crossed. He had a file open in front of him which he studied for a second. Then he spoke again.
"I see, Simpkins, that you are something of a soccer star. First eleven in your last school for two years running. That's pretty good. Have you played any rugger yet?"
Jason blushed slightly at the praise. He had had no idea that details of his achievements at his last school would have been passed on to Richard.
"Well no actually, but I'm very keen to give it a go."
"I'm sure you'll be excellent. I'll give you a bit if extra coaching if you like. I'm keen to get some good teams up and running. And it looks as though we've got some natural talent this year. Smelter, I see, has already shown considerable promise on the rugger pitch at his prep school. That's right isn't it Smelter?"
The youngster smiled modestly as he spoke. "Well, we only played it in our last year and lots were pretty good at it. I didn't do too badly and it was great fun, but I'm sure I won't be as good as lots of other new boys."
Richard then turned to Luke, whose sporting success had been on the cricket pitch, and explained how eager he was to be able to field a good cricket eleven against other schools in the area. He suspected, he said, that Luke would be a real asset.
As Richard chatted on, the boys became more and more at ease. They sat back further in the sofa and, when asked, cheerfully described their likes and dislikes. It was towards the end of the session that Richard turned to the burning issue of the day.
"OK lads, I've got to say something about punishments, but don't worry about it. To start with, you can see that I have survived being a junior at Stanton and I can assure you I have had my fair share of swishings in my time here. It's no big deal. Obviously it hurts like mad at the time, and no one likes having a sore bum, but it's over quickly and it's only done for your own good. What I used to do, when I was bending over, was just to keep saying to myself that I was only getting what hundreds of schoolboys up and down the country get every day of the year. It's also a good idea to keep remembering how popular you'll be when you show off the marks afterwards. Anyway, as I said at the meeting, you don't have to worry about the cane yet, unless you do something really dreadful. You'll only be getting the plimsoll and that's really not much worse than being given a really good spanking. I take it, by the way, that you've all been spanked at home?"
The three boys all nodded.
"Any of you had worse than that?"
Simon explained how his father had once slippered him. Luke said he had had the slipper at his previous school "quite a bit" and had even once been given two with the cane. Jason felt a bit inadequate at being unable to claim more than the occasional spanking. But Richard soon cheered him up.
"I saw your dad when he brought you here Simpkins. He looks a powerful man. I bet he spanks like a demon."
"He sure does, Tyler, but I expect you'll be a hundred times worse."
Richard then told them about the camping weekend he was arranging for new boys in three weeks time. Then he glanced at his watch.
"Well, that's all we've got time for now. But you really must remember that I always like seeing you. Even if you haven't got any particular problem, you must drop in and see me for a chat whenever you feel like it. The last thing I want is to find that I only see you in here when you're in trouble. OK, off you go."
The boys rose and headed for the door. They, like those who had left when they were waiting, were smiling happily. The session had been a success. True, once they got outside and saw Jenkins waiting, they became slightly more solemn. He was wearing ordinary school uniform. That meant he was a second year boy (if he had been a new boy he'd have been wearing PE kit). He was slightly taller than them, but even to their eyes he still looked small compared to the tall prefect who would shortly be dealing with him. He was slim and fit looking. His right hand had raised his jacket tail and he was apprehensively stroking his small round bottom which was tightly clad in his grey trousers. He managed a smile at the new boys There was no time for more than a few words. But he did speak.
"If you want to hang about and listen at the door, that's fine by me. I might even show you my stripes afterwards."
Then the light turned green, Jenkins knocked and Richard's voice called him in.
The boys, of course, waited outside to hear what they could. The voices inside were not raised and they could not make out what was being said. But it was clear there was quite a conversation going on. They strained to listen.
When Jenkins walked in to the room Richard had moved to the business end of his study. He was standing behind his desk with a large black book open in front of him. Jenkins was all too familiar with the sight of the house punishment book. He walked towards the desk and stood, gazing down at his shoes.
"This is pretty bad luck isn't it Jenkins? I can't remember anyone being swished this early in the term. This Mr Lane must be pretty strict."
Mr Lane was a new master who was clearly pretty keen on discipline. He had taken Jenkins's class for Latin that morning. As he had entered the class room most of the boys fell silent. Jenkins, who had not seen the master come in, carried on talking. But it only took him a couple of seconds to see Mr Lane and he shut up instantly. The master glared at him.
"Name" he barked.
"Jenkins, Sir".
"Boys in my class do not speak unless invited to. I shall be making a report to your prefect."
The faces of all the watching twelve year old boys dropped visibly. Masters only made reports to the Beacon House prefect when they wanted a boy to be beaten. That might be a reasonable penalty for a boy who had been guilty of persistent talking in class, b ut to cane a boy for speaking as a master entered seemed extraordinarily severe.
Jenkins responded to Richard's question.
"He certainly is, Tyler. Most of the lads thought that even a detention would have been over the top."
"Well, I don't mind telling you that I'm not at all happy about this, but I don't think there's any way out of it. I suppose, if you asked me to reduce your punishment, I might be able to give you lines instead, but it's a bit tricky when a master's asked for a boy to be caned."
"That's OK Tyler. I know you're only doing your job and there's no way I'd ask for a punishment to be reduced. I'll just have to be more careful in future."
"You're a good lad Jenkins. I'm proud to have you in my house. I'd like to be able to go easy on you, but I can't let anyone in the house think that any swishing from me might not be painful."
"Of course not. Anyway, it would be embarrassing if I didn't have really good stripes to show off afterwards and everyone's keen to know how hard you are. The next few minutes aren't going to be much fun for me, but I'm going to be very popular later."
Richard realised that there was some truth in that. Even boys in the senior houses would want a full report on his first effort with the cane. That was because, as the probable head boy in a year's time, most of them would be likely to find themselves being beaten by him in the future. That, unfortunately for Jenkins, made it even more important that he should perform well.
"OK Jenkins, let's get it over with." The prefect leant down and picked a cane from the umbrella stand. "Put your jacket over that chair and bend over by the window.".
Jenkins was familiar with the routine. He took his jacket off, folded it over the back of the chair and went to the window in the middle of the wall opposite the door. Facing the window, he placed his feet six inches apart, bent over and grabbed his ankles. His slim legs were absolutely straight. His trousers stretched tightly over the slightly rounded bottom. The lines of his underpants were clearly visible. This was obviously not a boy who committed the schoolboy's greatest crime (in the eyes of his peers) of padding up for a swishing.
Richard looked at the waiting target. His emotions were mixed. He really did not feel happy that his first caning should be for such a trivial offence. Jenkins seemed a throughly decent boy and Richard was distressed that he would have to be caused pain so early in the term. On the other hand, Richard was certainly eager to wield the cane for the first time on a real boy. He had, of course, practised on cushions during the school holidays, but the real thing would be quite different, and the younger boy's bottom was ideally proportioned for the cane. And there was another thing. Though he would never allow his desires to interfere with his duty to treat all boys fairly and justly, he had, for as long as he could remember, been aroused by thoughts of the corporal punishment of boys. Many was the night, after seeing stripes on a friend's bottom (or even after he had himself been the victim), when his enjoyment of the solitary vice practised by all teenage boys had been enhanced by what he had seen or experienced. He strongly suspected that actually administering the punishment would not be without its consolations. That suspicion was now being confirmed as he looked at the slim legs and firm buttocks which awaited his attention. So it was that it was not with absolute distress that he stepped forward to give his first ever caning.
The boys waiting outside could hear that the mumble of voices within had stopped. They held their breaths and put their ears closer to the door. About a minute passed and then there was a swishing sound followed by a crack which seemed loud even through the door. They grimaced as they looked at each other. Then there was another pause. Again there was the swish of the cane cutting through the air and the crack as it slammed into Jenkins's bottom. The next pause was a little longer. Then, swish, crack. The boys stood back a few paces, so as not to be seen by Richard when the door opened.
Inside, Richard had been pleased with the first stroke. Jenkins had managed to keep his feet firmly in place, but there was an involuntary jerk forward as the blow struck. It had obviously hurt. Richard stepped back again and again took aim. He did not do a run up as such, but he did walk forward a couple of paces as he swung the cane down onto the small waiting bottom. Jenkins managed, this time, to control the jerk. But his face, which Richard could see through the boy's legs, was twisted in pain. Richard waited longer before giving the last, and hardest stroke. He was grateful for the years of tennis practice which had so strengthened his right arm as he swung the cane with all the force he could muster. Then, as was the tradition at Stanton, he left the boy in position for a few moments, knowing that Jenkins would be desperate to clutch his throbbing buttocks.
Richard returned the cane to his umbrella stand and quickly checked that his state of arousal would not be obvious. There was certainly a bulge, but not so pronounced as to be noticeable to someone not looking for it. He turned and spoke.
"Well done Jenkins. Taken like a man. Up you get."
The twelve year old stood and held his bottom tightly with both hands.
"Wow, Jacobs gave me four last term and I thought it was the worst I could ever get, but three from you is twice as bad." He smiled as he continued. "This is definitely not going to be good news for the lads".
Jenkins picked up his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, still rubbing his bottom with his left hand.
"I hope you don't mind Tyler", he said, "But I told those newbugs that it would be ok if they hung around outside to listen. They seemed a nice looking bunch and I remember what it was like not having any idea of what a swishing was like. I reckoned that it might cheer them up if I came out smiling." As he spoke he managed a rather strained grin.
"Good thinking, just wait a couple of minutes to let the worst of the pain go down. By the way, I was thinking of making you captain of house rugger this term. Would you like that?"
"Blimey Tyler, that's fantastic" and a genuine smile appeared on the boy's face.
They briefly discussed who should be in the first team and then Jenkins left, a genuinely cheerful, if somewhat sore boy.
As the door opened the waiting trio looked up, dreading the sight of a sobbing boy emerging from the room. Instead, they saw a radiantly happy Jenkins, grinning from ear to ear. True, he was also rubbing an obviously sore bottom, but there was no disguising his genuine pleasure. So excited was he by the news of his appointment as rugger captain that he blurted it out straight away to the new boys.
"Hey, any of you play rugger? Tyler's just told me I'm going to be house captain and I'd like some new talent."
All three boys looked on in amazement. Perhaps this wasn't going to be such a bleak place after all if a boy could come out of a swishing looking so contented with life. They eagerly followed him to the changing rooms where, without the slightest hint of embarrassment, he dropped his trousers and pants and proudly displayed a very thoroughly caned bottom to his new friends. Even Luke, who had seen cane stripes before, was astounded at the raised purple coloured lines across Jenkins's buttocks.
"Crikey Jenkins, it must hurt like anything" said Jason.
"It's not exactly comfortable, but the swish isn't that bad you know. The pain wears off quite quickly. The worst is immediately afterwards. It stays sore for about half an hour, but it's bearable after a few minutes. Mind you, Tyler's a real expert. Last year we had Jacobs (he's the head boy of the whole school this year). His swishings were bad, but Tyler's even better than him with the cane."
That night Jason, Simon and Luke excitedly whispered their accounts of what they had heard and seen to the other boys in their dormitory.
Jenkins, as he had expected, had been much sought after by his friends between his caning and bed time. There was not a single second year boy who had not learnt, by then, of Richard's fearsome ability with the cane, and all had seen the evidence of it on Jenkins's firm flesh. Richard himself had chanced to enter Jenkins's dormitory just as the lad was changing into his pyjamas. The prefect was not naturally boastful, but he couldn't help being impressed by the sight of what he had done to the twelve year old bottom.
Richard had an early night that night. He had a lot to do in the following days and he knew that sleep would be needed. But he also knew that it would be preceded by the most wonderful and ecstatic release as he thought of what he had done that evening. As he undressed in his bedroom he looked in the mirror at his own firm buttocks and gently stroked their rounded shape. It was unlikely, but not impossible, that he would ever see cane stripes across them again but, running his hands lightly across them, he imagined them to be Jenkins's. He turned and looked face on to the mirror. He was already fully erect. But he did not touch it. He wanted this to last as long as possible. He closed his eyes and pictured in his mind the bending twelve year old boy and the jerk of pain as the first stroke had landed. Then he turned and looked again at his own bottom, imagining the thin stripe which would have formed the second Jenkins had felt the first blow. Then he thought of the stripes as he had actually seen them that night, vivid in colour and visibly raised. The pressure was becoming almost unbearable. Not for the first time (he was still a virgin) he wondered whether "doing it properly" with a girl could really be even better than this. Those who had done it (or claimed to have done it) swore that it was. That was something he would find out one day. For the time being he was content to go on thinking of Jenkins and of the other boys who would bend over in his study in the days and weeks to come. In particular, there was the prospect of the first use of that large plimsoll on an eleven year old bottom protected only by the thinnest of white cotton shorts. He wondered who the first one would be. He secretly hoped it would be Jason Simpkins. The boy had that wonderful combination of angelic facial features and, he guessed, a truly mischievous streak to his character. But, above all, he had a perfect round bottom which was just calling out for punishment. The thought was too much for Richard! . He could hold off no more. He jumped straight into bed, pumping slowly to begin with and then almost uncontrollably. Suddenly the throbbing started and he felt the spurting liquid driving itself out. It was the best ever.